


Our dreams will break the boundaries of our fears

by alwayssomethingelse



Category: Holby City
Genre: Did I mention fluff?, F/F, Fluff, Gym, alternative second kiss, spa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 15:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16789585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayssomethingelse/pseuds/alwayssomethingelse
Summary: Serena is stiff after a night on Sian's sofa bed; Bernie has a free trial voucher for her hotel health suite. What could possibly happen...?





	Our dreams will break the boundaries of our fears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spilled_notes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/gifts).



> I first had the image of Bernie and Serena in a spa setting about October two years ago, when I joined my uni health suite, and may have repeatedly shared that image with spilled_notes by text because that's what fandom friends do, right? Finally, two years later, I actually got round to writing the fic. Happy Birthday spilled_notes!
> 
> Set the day before Life in the Freezer.

It was all Bernie’s fault, Serena thought wildly, as she found herself leaning in to kiss that perfect face. 

But then, it always was.

**10 hours earlier**

Bernie arrives in the office a couple of minutes late, hair damp, bags and folders a hairsbreadth from dropping out of her arms. 

“Lie in?” Serena smiles up from the sea of paperwork that has accumulated over the weekend.

“Hah!” The folders dumped unceremoniously on her already cluttered desk, Bernie collapses into her chair. “Traffic was lousy between the hotel and here.”

“Hotel? I thought you’d got your own place months ago?” Serena casts bewildered eyes on her friend. 

“Oh I did, I have. I just took membership of the health suite. As I think you said, it’s nice to have a swim before breakfast.” She digs a protein bar out of her handbag, and grabs the coffee Serena had left for her. “Thank you, Mandy in Pulses said you’d got two.”

A cheeky grin curves over Serena’s lips. “Don’t thank me too soon. It’s bribery for this…” She passes over a fair half of the hated paperwork. 

A groan escapes Bernie’s lips. But no red phone rings, and no new admission requires any more than the most cursory of supervisory checks, so they spend the better part of the morning getting the quarterly reviews completed. 

Grimacing, Serena stretches and barely catches a yawn. 

“Late night?” 

“Mmm. Jason’s away till Thursday, so I had a catch up with Siân last night. Too much Shiraz and a _less_ than stellar sofa bed. My back is not thanking me.”

Bernie looks thoughtful. “I have an idea.”

“Oh yes?”

“Well…” She eyes Serena like she knows it’s not going to be easy to persuade her. 

“…What?” 

“…The health club at the hotel gave me a voucher for a free weeklong trial…wait…” She hushes the noises of disbelief coming from across the desks. “And they have a health suite as well as a pool and a gym. You know, sauna, Jacuzzi, the works.” As expected, Serena’s eyes light up at the latter facilities. 

“The only thing is, you would have to come with me – the voucher only works alongside my membership card. And…”

Serena looks at her quizzically. “What is it?”

Bernie stares at a fascinating smut on the wall behind the coat stand. “Well…you’d have to have an induction in the gym first. Part of the deal, non-negotiable.” She dares a look at Serena’s highly disbelieving face, one eyebrow quirked to it’s zenith. “But…there is a nice little Italian a few doors down, with an extensive wine list…”

Serena’s eyes narrow. “How much of an induction?”

“Um, half an hour, maybe?” Bernie thinks back to her own, looks back at Serena’s eyebrow, straining to reach higher. “At most.” She adds, firmly. “Probably more like twenty minutes.”

“And an extensive wine list, you say?”

“At least seven different types of Shiraz.” Bernie affirms.

Silence, broken only by the constant chirp of the ward outside. 

Then, “I’ll think about it.”

Bernie nods. “It’s a _nice_ Jacuzzi.”

“I said I’ll _think_ about it. Shall we get lunch?”

***

Though she’d never admit it, Bernie’s proposal has occupied Serena’s mind throughout the early afternoon. Her stiff joints and aching muscles are calling out for some heat, and try as she might to tell herself that a hot bath at home is all she really needs, the temptation of a full health suite is pulling at her. She has even looked up the hotel’s website when Bernie was out of the office assisting Morven on a diagnosis. It does look very appealing.

“So what’s your plan?” She asks as Bernie comes back into the office bearing a bundle of flipcharts. 

“Plan?” Bernie looks startled. “For what?”

“Tonight…?” But Bernie still looks bemused. “The health suite?” Serena prods.

“Oh, that! Well, I…hadn’t given it much thought to be honest. But if you’re up for it, I guess we could be there by 6, I’ll do a bit in the gym while they do your induction, and then you can go and use the facilities and I…”

“Oh no.” Serena is very firm.

“No?” 

“If I’m doing this as your guest, you’re coming in the facilities too.”

“Oh, well…but…” Bernie looks discomfited. “I mean, they’re not really my thing, health suites.” 

Serena raises her eyebrow again. “And gyms aren’t mine. Quid pro quo and all that.”

“I’d have thought you’d have wanted some quiet time.” Bernie’s face says she knows the argument is futile as soon as it’s aired.

“My experience of health suites is that there will always be that one man who thinks he’s god’s gift to women and this is his chance to prove it. Hopefully he’ll think otherwise if I have a big macho army medic with me.” She smirks at Bernie. “Do you need to book the extensive wine list?”

Bernie barks a laugh. “No, but I might need to book a table. What time?

“Say 7.30 for safety’s sake.” 

“So this means you’re coming to the gym then?” 

“Only because I have precious little other option.” Serena humphs. 

“How about I pick you up from yours, that way you’re not driving home?” 

“Done. Now, which of us is going to deal with Mr Townshend in 5?” 

“How about I set the leg while you sort the graft on his arm?”

Serena nods. “Anything to get me away from these reports. I’ll be seeing them in my sleep.”

***

Four forty-five finds them changing from scrubs to civvies in an otherwise empty changing room. They’re joking about something Lou said in theatre when Serena turns round, and catches an eyeful of her friend’s deltoid and trapezius muscles stretching as Bernie pulls off her scrub top. She bites her lip to silence a small sigh that will rise up in her. Suddenly, half an hour in the gym seems a lot more appealing than her last attempt at personal fitness. This could be her bag after all.

“…Serena?”

“Hmm?”

“Shall I pick you up at 5.40 then?” Bernie repeats. 

Serena nods and smiles, tries to shake off the previous, unasked for thought. Busies herself in collecting their scrubs for the laundry chute, pats down the pockets and returns Bernie’s bank card to her.

“You’ll want that later.” She winks, before turning to shut her locker.

“Ahhhh…” Bernie mumbles as she pulls her hair into a ponytail. “Yes, the bank did say they were going to start charging me…”

“Well that’s no one’s fault but your own. _How_ many has it been?”

Bernie has the modesty to blush. “Five, I think.”

Serena looks at her, disbelieving.

“Well there was that one of the joint account I had with Marcus, but that doesn’t count…”

“Why, because it wasn’t a mistake?” 

Bernie chuckles. “No, because it was after he froze the account.” 

“Well,” Serena smirks, “at least it wasn’t your phone this time.”

“True.” Bernie grimaces at the too recent memory. “Right, I’m off. See you later.” And with that, she is gone – although she has the grace to take the scrubs off Serena. “I’ll dispose of those.”

Left on her own, Serena reapplies her lipstick, tidies her hair, and returns to the office to pick up her coat and handbag before dashing out of AAU. She’s not going to have much time to get home and changed at this rate.

***

For once in her life, Bernie is on time to pick Serena up. More punctual than the woman herself, it appears. She’s almost about to turn the engine off and go to the door when Serena appears, flurried, and locks up.

“Alright Campbell? Did you get lost?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Serena fastens her seat belt. “I had a bit of game finding something suitable for the gym if you must know. Not exactly a staple of my wardrobe, unlike you.” She casts her eyes over Bernie’s lycra covered body, blushes, and turns back to face the windscreen. 

Bernie can’t help but feel a rush of pleasure at that, before she beats it down. It’s taken them this long to get back to an easy friendship after what she has mentally coined ‘the incident’, and she doesn’t want to risk it again. 

Luckily, the hotel is on the same side of town as Serena’s, and they’re driving the opposite direction to the rush hour traffic, so Bernie is able to pull up at two minutes to six. 

“Ready Campbell?” She holds the side door to the hotel spa open.

“Let’s get the torture over with as quickly as possible, eh?” 

Bernie honks a laugh, causing the receptionist to glance up, startled. She smiles when she recognises a regular client, and Bernie books Serena in.

***

Having introduced Serena to a fitness instructor by the name of Peter, Bernie abandons her for the cross fit machine. Tearing her eyes away from her friend, Serena turns her attention to the six foot something man beside her, currently asking if she has any medical issues.

“Asides from a healthy dislike of any exercise that doesn’t involve opening a bottle of Shiraz, I’m fine.” 

“Right…” He seems a little discomfited, unsure why she’s there, perhaps. “Well, uh, we’ll start with the treadmills, I’m sure you’re familiar with those?”

Serena groans inwardly. “It’s been a few years, but yes.” She follows him across the gym floor, tries her best to pay attention as he points out the features of the machine. Manages to satisfy him that she can use it safely. 

“Right, the cross fit trainer…” Peter waves a hand, and Serena’s eyes flick to Bernie, amply demonstrating the machine. She flashes a smile at Serena as Peter sets her up on the one next to her. But before too long he’s directing her to follow him to the rowing machine, and after that the bikes, and then the wave machine, something she hasn’t met before. After a few minutes on each, Peter brings her to the resistance machines. He takes her round each, showing her how to use them, and how to change the weights, the seat settings and so on. 

“Right, I think you’re good to go.”

“That’s it?”

“I mean, to have a work out.” He looks at her a little strangely.

“Oh, right, yes.” She resists the urge to tell him that she’s only here for the Jacuzzi, and tries to look interested as she sits herself on the nearest machine, the leg press. “Thank you.”

“Give me a shout if you’re not sure about anything.” And he disappears over to some extremely muscled men in the weights area. 

Serena glances around as she slowly bends her knees. Bernie has moved to a machine she’s already forgotten the name of, one where she’s seated with her back to Serena, pulling down a bar to chest height. The sight of her triceps, deltoids and lats rippling with the work out she’s giving them once again makes Serena’s breath falter, and she crashes the seat – and the weights – back down a little more noisily than she would like. Bernie turns round and smiles at her, a shy grin, and Serena can’t help but smile back; raises her hand in a small wave. Next up, she thinks, she’ll choose a work out that takes her out of sight of Bernie, so she can breathe properly. Meanwhile, she stares at the foot board, and tries to focus on the beat of the pop music. This is relatively successful until she realises she is quietly singing along with the chorus… _“Lay your body down, lay your body down…next to mine…”_ while staring at Bernie’s back again. Serena is sweating now, and it’s not just the physical exertion.

 _‘Pull yourself together Campbell.’_ She thinks, as she escapes across the gym floor to the machine furthest away, and out of sight. 

But it’s no good. Almost as if she knows, Bernie moves to the chest press, and now it’s worse, because they’re facing each other. And… _Oh god_ Serena can feel the blush deepening even as she lowers her eyes to the floor. Bernie’s pecs working over her ribs and sternum are sinfully attractive, and how she’s ever supposed to ‘keep it confined to theatre’ now she does not know. A guilty thought crosses her mind - _maybe we shouldn’t…_

Having completed the requisite ten repetitions, Serena glances round the space. Her eyes light on the leg extension machine. _It_ doesn’t face any of the resistance trainers. Perfect! She settles herself in the chair, checks the weight, and starts the repetitions. Then blinks, rapidly. Bernie has now moved towards the weights side of the room, which Peter told her she wasn’t to use until she was regularly comfortable with the resistance machines – something that, unless she wanted two entirely different forms of torture visited upon her at the same time, seemed unlikely to ever happen. The second, exquisite, form is definitely being attempted now. Bernie lifts a number of weights onto a bar connected into another machine, and, with her back to Serena, pushes backwards with one foot, extending her whole leg, and showing off her arse more perfectly than Serena was prepared for. 

“Fuck.” She mutters to herself, ignoring the slightly horrified tut from the woman on the machine next to her. The reality of what this is hits her heavier than the weights dropping down under her slack muscles. She does know the symptoms, after all. Ever since Bernie’s careful little speech in their office, she’s been doing her best to pretend that this isn’t real, that it isn’t going anywhere, at any rate. But it is, and if she doesn’t do something, she might well combust. The question is – what?

Meanwhile, she tries the – _what was it? Oh yes, the adductor._ Mainly because it faces the wall, and therefore has to be safe. But it turns out that nowhere is secure from the vagaries of her own mind. As she squeezes her thighs together to lift the weights, the thought that this would be an excellent work out towards better sex flits across her brain…and Bernie has presumably been using this on a weekly basis… _Bernie’s inner thighs…_ She groans. Doomed. She is totally and utterly doomed.

“How are you getting on? Ready for the Jacuzzi?” As if summonsed by telepathy, Bernie’s voice breaks through Serena’s turbulent thoughts. “We don’t want to rush it, or be late for dinner either…”

“Ah, um, yes.” She smiles up, looking anywhere but Bernie’s eyes. “I, err, hadn’t realised…”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself after all. I didn’t think I’d have to see if you were ready to go, I thought you’d be dragging me out the moment Peter’s back was turned.” Bernie laughs as they walk down the corridor to the changing room. Serena bites her tongue at the thought of dragging Bernie anywhere. The nearest dark corner is supremely tempting. 

The changing rooms back on to the spa, Bernie explains as they change into their swimsuits – an activity simultaneously similar and totally different to changing at work, Serena thinks. For starters, it involves taking off underwear. Even Bernie, normally so body confident, seems to turn away, her eyes anywhere but Serena. Meanwhile, she herself fiddles with the lycra of her costume, stealing just one glance at Bernie’s back as she pulls the straps over her arms. This had seemed such a good idea earlier, and now… now she doesn’t know if it’s genius, or a disaster waiting to happen. 

Bernie leads the way towards the showers, indicating the sign instructing that patrons are expected to be clean before entering. That done, she follows through a doorway into a room mocked up to look like an underwater cave. 

“Very fancy.”

“I did tell you. Now, Jacuzzi first?”

“Yes please. But where…” The question dies on her lips as Bernie opens a sliding door to a private patio, bedecked with outdoor heaters and flowering plants, with a large Jacuzzi sunk into the ground. A canopy rail suggests the option for when it’s pouring down, but tonight that’s not needed, as the evening rays are all that she can see over the high fence surrounding the space. “Ohhh.”

“Told you it was nice.” Bernie looks as smug as she sounds, her eyes drifting down Serena’s body and rushing back up again with a blush. 

“Ah, but does it live up to its looks?” Serena quirks an eyebrow at Bernie, then takes her proffered hand to steady herself as she steps in. “Good temperature,” she nods, when she’s up to her knees, slips her fingers off Bernie’s as she wades into the depth of the Jacuzzi. “Mmmmm.” She drops herself backwards and floats towards the far edge. “Come on then.”

“Oh, well I thought I’d just…” Bernie stumbles over her words, looking anywhere but at Serena. 

“Ah-ah, no running away Ms Wolfe. In you get.” She puts on her most Nuremberg-y tone.

“Yes Fraulein.” Bernie lowers one leg in, then the other; long limbs remarkably gangly as she folds herself up to sit on the seat opposite Serena. “Shall I get it on?”

Serena grins wickedly. “That is what we’re here for, after all.” She enjoys the sight of Bernie blushing beetroot as she holds the operating button down. Then the jets start, and as two work her spine, and bubbles from another press up between her thighs, Serena groans. “Ohhh, this is good. Almost as good as…well…” She looks across at Bernie just in time to see her lick her lips, catching a glimpse of dilated pupils before Bernie blinks and looks away. 

“So, ah, I thought tomorrow, I’d do that L3-S1 decompression and…” Bernie stops when Serena flicks water at her. “…What was that for?”

“We are categorically not talking about work now.” Serena kicks a foot up and makes contact with Bernie’s shin. “This is supposed to be relaxing, remember.” She watches her reaction as she drags her foot lightly down Bernie’s leg. Grins when she sees her friend’s breath hitch. Thinks _‘good, it’s not just me’_ with relief.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, the fizz of the water mixing with gentle strains of some Bach playing over the speakers the only sound to be heard. 

“There’s a…there’s a charity fundraiser for the Holby Stroke Support on this Saturday. Jason has inveigled me into going because they’ve been very good to Alan. I don’t suppose you’d like to come?” Serena breaks the silence, and Bernie’s eyes come back from staring into the distance, to look at her. “It’s, um, a revue, whatever that is when it’s at home. Dinner comes as part of it.” 

“Sounds interesting,” Bernie nods, “and for a good cause. What time? And how much are the tickets?” 

“Seven thirty, and they’re twenty-five pounds.” Serena moves through the water to sit beside Bernie, turning slightly towards her, hopeful. 

“Very reasonable. Ah, where is it?” Bernie mirrors her posture, her eyes briefly meeting Serena’s only to look away again. 

“The Lough Shore Golf Resort.” Serena waits until Bernie glances back to her, and then adds, faltering over what seemed like a good idea seconds ago… “I was thinking, we could share a taxi, and you could stay at mine after…if you want…” She doesn’t take her eyes off Bernie’s, dark and inscrutable. “It would save…”

“…I…that…”

“…I mean, I wouldn’t want to pressure you…” She hears the breathiness in her voice, the anticipation of possibility, berates herself for sounding like, for feeling like, a teenager in the first flush of a new crush.

“…Serena…” Bernie’s lips are parted, her colour heightened.

“…It’s just…” She’s whispering now, and somehow has moved closer to Bernie, her hand reaching out and grasping at water, at air, finding purchase on Bernie’s arm. “I…” A moment before it happens, Serena knows what she is going to do. She is going to kiss Bernie.

As soon as Serena leans in to bring their lips together, Bernie responds, and with that, it’s hard to know where one ends and the other begins, her hands are all over Bernie’s back, her neck, through her beautiful, tousled, somewhat damp hair. And Bernie is grasping her, too, fingers now pressing into her back, now caressing her neck. As they draw apart, Bernie kisses the air between them as Serena shakily starts to apologise – though for what, she’s not sure. 

“Don’t be, I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.” Bernie is searching out her gaze now, glowing with joy and warmth. Serena can feel a bubble of laughter building up in her, after all her worries, all her restraint, all her fear that Bernie didn’t really fancy her after all. 

“Really? I…” But the words die away as the door to the patio opens, and a large middle aged man with jaundiced skin suggesting cirrhosis of the liver steps heavily on to the decking. 

“Ladies.” He announces, as he sploshes down into the Jacuzzi at the far end. “Lovely evening for it.” He adds, completely unaware of what he’s just interrupted. 

“Um, quite.” Bernie nods, not looking at him over Serena’s shoulder. 

“You know, it’s probably time we, ah…” Serena motions towards the door, and Bernie nods, relief written large on her face. 

Once inside, she nods to the steam room. “We’ve got the time, would you like to make full use of the facilities before we go?”

Serena raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know about _full_ use…” she positively purrs, “but getting hot and sweaty with you definitely has its attractions.” She grins at Bernie’s crimson cheeks, made all the more apparent by the contrast of her blown pupils.

“You’re…”

“…a shameless flirt, I know. It’s one of my innate talents. Along with knowing how to get what I want…” She fixes Bernie with a look that she hopes says ‘ _you_ ’, before raking her eyes slowly down that lithe figure.

“On second thoughts, perhaps you’d be better off going in the plu…dip pool?” Bernie indicates it with a twist of her lips. Serena glances up at her face, suspicious of the glint in her eye. 

“What’s that?”

“Oh, you know, just a dip pool.” She’s feigning innocence like a pro, but Serena is one of the best and she doesn’t trust her companion for one minute.

“A dip pool, eh?” Serena wanders over to inspect it, Bernie following. “Looks very nice. Is it deep?” 

“Comes up to my shoulders, not bad.”

“So you’ve been in it before?”

“Oh, plenty of times, it’s very pleasant. Are you going to have a go?” There’s just a tad too much eagerness, a hint of a giggle in Bernie’s tone.

“Ah ah, beauty before age.” And Serena deftly sidesteps the arm Bernie has out to guide her into the plunge pool, giving her a nudge instead, stepping backwards from the ensuing splash of icy cold water. Bernie’s response gives life to the old simile of cursing like a trooper. 

“Well really, do you think I’m that easy?” Serena watches Bernie clamber out, skin bright red from the sting of her unexpected bath. “ _Now_ shall we go in the steam room? I know a way of warming you up…” She injects an extra sway into her hips as she saunters across to the steam room, leaving Bernie to follow in her wake. 

“Seems there’s a lot I’ve yet to learn about you, Serena Wendy Campbell.” Bernie murmurs as she shuts the steam room door behind her.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Crossfire by Brandon Flowers, which is also the song Serena finds herself singing along to. Mainly because I keep hearing it in the gym, and had that chorus as a complete earworm for some time as a result.
> 
> Oh, and Bernie's habit of losing her bank cards down the laundry shute? That might be stolen directly from a medical professional I happen to know...


End file.
